


Scared

by magnusandalexander



Category: Connor Franta - Fandom, tronnor - Fandom, troye sivan - Fandom, troye sivan/Connor Franta - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnusandalexander/pseuds/magnusandalexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troye never knew that one boy would change his entire life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scared

Troye does not like change. He sticks to the same basic routine; that is how it had been for the past year and a half of his life. Nothing exciting really happens when you are forced into a depressing building where you have to share your problems with other people. Troye was used to waking up every morning, shoving food down his throat with his meds and going for therapy sessions with a few other kids. Nothing else.

But one day, everything changes. A new boy comes. Connor is his name apparently, but Troye didn't want anything to do with him, based off what he had heard. He was just another boy coming into the treatment center to get better. No one ever said anything about becoming friends. 

His opinion changed dramatically upon actually seeing him. The boy's brown fringe covered his face as he dragged his feet upon the squared tile, following the too enthusiastic receptionist. He had a backpack slung carelessly over his navy green denim jacket, which was open on the side and had very few items inside it. Connor's fingernails were being bitten at a rapid pace; if he wasn't chewing on them, his hands were splayed across his black pants and being tapped urgently. He's cute.

Troye slightly shook his head and got up from the rickety, old plastic chair and sauntered back to his room. I am not developing a crush on a boy I just saw in the halls, Troye thought while dodging several people speeding past him. This was not helping the approaching headache coming his way and the familiar sense of panic. The white walls felt like they were closing in on him, and he had no way to escape. The people seemed to double in number, trapping Troye...

Troye took a deep, stuttered breath and raced towards the rooms. The numbers he passed got larger and larger until he reached Tyler and his room. Troye's hands fumbled around the metal knob for several moments until he finally was able to open the door. He needed to get high.

He rushed into the room, relieved he was alone. The shades on the only two windows across him were closed, dimming the room almost completely. It was as if a grey filter was placed on Troye's vision. In front of him, he acknowleged the difference of the two twin beds, seperated by the small desk occupying a lone lamp. Tyler's bed, and whole side of the room, was neat. Not a thing was out of order. His clothes were folded neatly inside his drawers, and the laundry basket only had a few items in it at a time. His bed was made nicely, sheets even on all sides as well as the pillows being lined up equally with each other.

Troye was another story. Dirty socks and underwear, worn out clothes, and used tissues littered the floor. His collection of empty shampoo bottles ended up worming its way into the crooks and crannies of his section of the room. His bed was in shambles, the only thing keeping it intact is the trash underneath it. Covers hung off the sides of the bed while some formed a big mess directly on top of it.

And now, actually letting himself see through the denial, he realized how fucked up he was. He knew that is why he is here, sure, but even the little things he does unknowingly makes a big difference. After a few minutes of silence and congested breathing, Troye recomposed himself and confidently strode over to the far right corner of the bedroom, near the bottom of the window and top of the dresser. He plucked the small plastic bag from against the wall and into his hands. Here, he left powerful. He felt like he was back on the streets by himself, and although most people would be afraid of returning to that type of lifestyle, Troye was happy. He felt unstoppable in this position, with just him and a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He reached inside the bag, wrapping his hands around the contents and closing his blue eyes.

There was suddenly a loud knock on the door and a familiar creaking filled the silence. He was jolted into reality then, eyes opening immediately and throwing the open bag underneath the trash on his floor. Troye spun around, breathing heavily, in knowing there was a chance he had been caught. His heart race sped up upon seeing who stood in the doorway, though.

There, leaning against the door, was Connor, as well as the receptionist, Mamrie. His green eyes uncertainty glanced around the room before meeting Troye's. Trying to be nice, Troye assumed, Connor gave a small smile before finding something else to pay attention to.

"Troye Mellet," Mamrie began. "we have someone new joining us today. His name is Connor. There were no other rooms available, so since you and Tyler have one of the largest spaces he will be living with you two as well."

Troye stared in shock at Mamrie. Connor, the one boy he wanted to avoid, was staying in his room? Why couldn't he be paired with Dan and Phil? Was it because they were in a relationship? 

Mamrie continued, "We will come in later today while you are showing Connor to his classes to rearrange this place to make room. As for now, show him around the place a bit more. When you're done," Mamrie scrunched her face in disgust and strangely looked at Troye. "clean this up. We have enough to do enough, cleaning your space is not one of them, Mellet." 

"Understood." Mamrie nodded and left the doorway, squeezing Connor's shoulder in the act of it.

There was then an awkward silence as both boys stared each other down. Troye took in his face, as it was now visible without his hair in the way. He had dark green eyes that followed Troye's body and long eyelashes that many people would be jealous of. His mouth was set in a straight line and he occasionally would sneak his tongue out to lick his lips. How am I going to keep my hands off him if he is living here? Troye wondered.

"He-hello," Troye started. "I'm Troye." 

Connor looked at him in a strange way for several seconds, before letting out, in Troye's opinion, a somewhat forced laugh. "I think I have noticed." 

Troye could feel a dark blush flowing up his neck to the apples of his cheeks. He internally swore to himself for acting like he was head over heels for Connor. Seeing Connor give an honest laugh in response to Troye's actions made him blush even further and opened an invitation for conversation. In that moment, he realized that he did not need to take drugs or smoke pot to feel a release. He did not need those cigarettes now. 

And ever since meeting the boy, Troye had felt an unwanted attraction towards Connor. They continued talking and in fact, many people, some whom they had never spoken to, had mistaken the two for a couple. Both boys get extremely flustered and worked up from this, and they begin to acknowledge the type of relationship they had. Cuddling together while Tyler was still in the room and sleeping in the same bed while one was left unattended were just some of the many things they did together, that they thought could be passed as platonic. 

Connor had no problem with changing his relationship with Troye; in fact, he wanted it. He noticed Troye's rosy cheeks when he grabs his hands and swings them over dramatically between them. He noticed the way he looks at Connor when he doesn't think he is looking, and immediately turns away with the slightest movement coming from Connor. He was not afraid or scared about changing their labels, from best friends to boyfriends. Troye saw it, Connor saw it, other people saw it, hell, even counselors saw it. He had been told on multiple occasions that he had improved dramatically from his bipolar attitude, and now managed to stay in a good mood whenever he was with Troye. They told him how much they needed each other, and Connor agreed.

Troye noticed the same things as well, and wanted it just as bad, but told himself no. No matter how much he urged himself to go on and kiss Connor or ask him one simple question, he told himself not to. Why? Because he was straight. Troye wanted to be straight, as he was afraid of change. He was brought up in an extremely religious family, who taught him that he was straight and if not you are a sinner. He would go to bars every Friday night and find random girls that were too drunk to care that Troye was essentially using them to forget that he was gay. It was always like this. He almost started to believe himself, before Connor came into the picture like a hurricane and ruined everything for him. He ruined it in a good way, a way that made Troye happy yet scared at the same time. Because it was normal to think that your best friend has a nice ass, and lips that you want to kiss and a personality that makes your heart flutter, right?

But one night, the confusion and stress became too much for Troye. He knows he is gay, he feels it, but is unable to accept the fact. He was taught to be straight, taught that it's the right choice. Otherwise, he would become a bigger discrase to his family than he already is.

He found himself sitting in the corner of the old, deserted room, the location he went to when time alone was needed. No one came up here anyways; people didn't want to squint while walking through the occasional cobwebs and try and find their way around this section of the addiction center. In fact, nobody really knew this abandoned room existed.

One of the reasons why Troye loved it was not just the privacy, but how quiet it was. Sure, it was to be expected from being isolated from the other rooms, but the silence allowed him to sit down and think. No matter where he went, the bathroom or his room, there was always some type of noise to distract him. The air conditioning kicking on, people talking behind the closed door, or even just the tap water running. Here though, there was none of that. The white walls almost seemed like they gave Troye the oppurtunity to open up, even if it is just him and his thoughts. The large window taking up majority of the wall put Troye at ease.

Troye sat on the dirty tiled floor, hugging his knees to his chest and dropping his head into them. He bit his lip, telling himself not to cry and just calm down. He always overreacted in situtations like this. He wanted to make everynody happy, his parents happy, the counselers happy, Connor happy. Sometimes he was unable to do it all, and the guilt ate at him. Because he was already a disappointment, right? Why should he fuck things up even more? 

Troye wanted to kiss Connor. He wanted to cuddle Connor. He wanted to hold him tight on those rough rights, and gently whisper in his ear how things were going to be alright. He wanted to be more than best friends, more than the relationship they had now. But why was it so hard to just accept that he's gay and is in love with Connor? 

Suddenly, the door creaked open and a pair of green eyes stared at Troye, affection pooling in their eyes. The dark shadows hid their sillouete, and Troye jumped back in surprise. The person hesitantly entered the room, shoving their face in through the small crack to make themselves visible to Troye. Seeing it was Connor, he relaxed immediately and looked up at him. He didn't hide the tears that quickly sped down his cheeks unknowingly, or the way his nails dug into his arms almost to the point of bleeding. There was no reason to shield his emotions; they were already worn on his sleeves. 

"I thought I heard someone in he-" Connor began, but stopped once he saw Troye's wrecked appearance. "Hey, what's wrong?" He rushed into the room, only stopping to shut the door, and kneeled down besides Troye. He reached out and pulled the boy into him, who immediately ducked his head down into the crook of his neck. Troye began quietly crying. 

All Connor did was sit there, hugging Troye and rubbing circles into the small of his back. No words were spoken. There wasn't anything to say, really. Troye's sobs were quiet, but still apparent. Connor didn't notice that his leg had fallen asleep, or that his shirt was soaked with tears. Troye's comfort came first. 

It took about fifteen minutes for Troye to calm down. His body shook less and less, and he eventually began to breathe harshly into Connor's neck. Neither boy knew how to begin a conversation, bring this up. 

Troye spoke first. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean for you to see me," he trailed off, bowing his head in embarrassment. He played with his fingers, cracking all of his knuckles and playing with his fingernails. 

Connor looked at Troye. His hand moved from the back of Troye's throat, to the small hairs on the back of his neck, to finally finding themselves tucked into his hair. He messed with the curls that stuck to his forehead. Connor kissed his head in response, resting his own on top. 

"It's just... I like you. I love you. I have from the moment you came into the building, to the day you moved in and I showed you around here. I have when we pushed our beds together to sleep with each other, and we talked about our futures and what we hope to accomplish on that one night. I'm obsessed with you, I love you. So fucking much," Troye belted.

Then, he did something neither boy expected. He stopped playing with his hands and looked Connor in the eyes. He slowly leaned forward, looking down at Connor's soft lips. Troye smiled, giving out a low chuckle and continuing to lean in. Eventually, they had gotten to the point where there was no space between them. There noses bumped into one anothers, and Connor could feel Troye's breaths onto his cheek. He took in the peppermint smell. 

Finally, Troye leaned in and gently placed his lips onto Connor's. Connor's eyes snapped open in surprise, but seeing Troye's calm, relaxed face eased him. He moved his lips against the others, pleased with the fact that it seemed so right and common. They were missing out on this for a while. Troye's hands, placed on Connor's chest, slid down to his waist and settled there.

He then pulled away, leaving Connor desperate for more. His eyes looked up from the ground, revealing that he wasn't as collected as he seemed to be mere seconds ago. Troye closed his eyes then, ducking his head down and falling asleep to the comfort and warmth of Connor.

They stayed like that all night.

 

* * *  
It had been sixteen days and three hours since Troye and Connor had had a real conversation. Connor had been counting.

Ever since that night, Troye tried his hardest to avoid him. Connor knew he was afraid, he couldn't deny it, but whenever Connor even said a quick hello in Troye's direction it was as if he was speaking to the wall. It hurt him, knowing that he didn't want to be associated with. 

Troye, on the other hand, wanted to talk to him, but did not have it in him to go and bring the situation up. That was all he wanted to talk about; he wanted to address the elephant in the room to get it over with. The guilt and fear was eating him alive. Every single day Troye sat in their shared room when he should be in his therapy sessions, and wondered why he was such a fuck up. Was he not good enough? Yes. Did he deserve such a wonderful person as Connor, who's life he would make worse? No.

At night, they brushed soldiers occasionally in the tight space, but that was honestly the only type of interaction they got. Connor did try and talk to him, but Troye knew the moment he engaged in their conversation the anxiety would build up until it was too much. So he avoided him. 

Currently, Connor watched from afar as Troye hesitantly walked to his counselors office and softly knocked. When there was no reply and he noticed how dim the room was, he sighed and pulled a cheap plastic chair from the nearest table and placed it besides the door, sitting on it afterwards. Troye's knee bounced up and down. 

Connor suddenly pranced over to Troye as a last minute decision. He showed himself, stepping from behind the chipped wall and not slowing down his quick pace. He passed others who were filled with confusion, as mostly everyone noticed the awkward tension between the two. He ignored the way, when Troye noticed him, he dug his nails into the seat and tensed up. Once he reached Troye he stood over him, looking down and finally meeting the familiar pair of blue eyes. 

"What," Troye breathed, "do you want?" 

"What I want is to know why you have been ignoring me for the past two weeks. I try and talk to you, you just brush past me. We live in the same fucking room, and we haven't spoken a word for this long! Why?" 

Troye just stared up at him. His face began heating up, and his eyes seemed glassier to Connor. He bit his lip, flickering between Connor's face and the floor. They did not notice how people, close and far, stopped to watch. 

Troye then stood up, face to face with Connor. His breathing was uneven, and he seemed to be holding back from something. "Because I am absolutely terrified of you, yet equally as obsessed at the same time," he spoke. "I want to love you, but I just can't." Troye seemed to be getting frustrated at himself.

Connor's face fell. "Wh- what?" 

"Did you not hear me?! I'm fucking scared, alright? Is that what you wanted to hear? You want to know how you wreck me? Well fine, there! You drive me insane, and I love you for that," he spit out in Connor's face. He didn't notice the tears that had fallen, unshed ones gathering in his eyes, threatening to spill out.

"And you know what?" Troye continued, begining to whisper. "I want you to wreck me," he started to raise his voice again. "I want you to stomp all over my heart, fuck with all my feelings! That is what you have done the whole time, have you ever realized?" By now he was shouting, screaming at Connor. 

At this point, several workers in the building had made their way over and tried to usher Troye away from Connor, as they did not know what his intentions were. Troye fought though, attempting to continue his heated conversation with Connor while shrugging them off. He suddenly cried out in pain when a counselor had to twist his arm back for him to stop. He clenched his eyes while biting down on his lip. 

Now that he was vunerable, the workers slowly guided their way with Troye into an abandoned room not far off from where they currently were. He was still looking at Connor though, as he got smaller and smaller. "I so regret kissing you; I enjoyed it too much," he sighed before being pulled into the room.

That was the last time they spoke to each other.


End file.
